


The Perfect Gift

by Breath4Soul



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Cute, Fluffyfest, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7369891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breath4Soul/pseuds/Breath4Soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i>A JLAC Prompt.</i>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> <i>Something is wrong with John Watson. </i></p>
  <p>As hard as Sherlock tries to focus on his experiments, the cases and his immense relief that his world has returned to some semblance of<i> ‘right’ </i>the thought keeps bubbling to the surface like a nagging suspicion that he is missing something important. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>  <i>John Watson is acting all wrong. </i></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Gift

_Something is wrong with John Watson._

As hard as Sherlock tries to focus on his experiments, the cases and his immense relief that his world has returned to some semblance of _‘right’_ the thought keeps bubbling to the surface like a nagging suspicion that he is missing something important. 

_John Watson is acting all wrong._

Sherlock tries to reason with himself that it is to be expected that John has changed his habits. The fiasco with Mary had been quite the ordeal and is bound to have taken its toll. Finding out that Mary had been under Moriarty’s employment the entire time was a terrible and painful revelation for the doctor. However, considering the potential consequences, John had seemed relieved to find out that _infidelity_ was among one of Mary’s many _character flaws_. John hadn’t really had time to let himself adjust to or become enamored by the idea of being a father when the DNA tests proved that the child, in fact, belonged to David.

David, usher at John’s wedding, who had squirmed at Sherlock’s pressure to back off, had turned out to be the confidante that had helped her assume the identity of _Mary Morstan_. Sherlock had been right to suspect something more _there_ , but his desire to trust Mary had made him misjudge it as _one sided_. 

_Damn sentiment._

In the end, Mary had taken out Moriarty herself and then had promptly been apprehended by Mycroft’s people while trying to _‘tie up loose ends’_ by making an attempt on both John and Sherlock’s life. 

Mary is spending the rest of her days behind bars in a very upscale holding facility, which is really the safest existence for a woman who managed to turn against her so many people who made their living killing. 

David showed all signs of being an excellent father to their child while insanely loyal to Mary, willing to take whatever he could get of her any way it came. So Mary Morstan got about the best version of a happy ending a deceitful, self-involved, cold blooded assassin could expect.

John had returned to 221B and life had fallen into a familiar rhythm. 

That was until a few weeks ago when John’s behaviour inexplicably altered. 

Sherlock mentally reviews the list of behavioural oddities.  


  * John suddenly took to spending far less time in the common area. John instead seems to prefer staying in his room over all other activities. John often goes straight to his room after returning home from the clinic. He also goes upstairs to his bedroom several times during their work on cases. At times he does not return for nearly an hour.  

  * John seems unaccountably happier and more relaxed after these visits to his room. A big, goofy, almost childlike smile often graces his features upon his return. This smile will often reappear at somewhat random moments as if John is suddenly struck by a fond memory. John tries to disguise the smile and side step Sherlock’s inquires about what he is thinking.  

  * John seems to have developed a complex about eating a whole meal in front of Sherlock. When he can convince John to go out to eat, he will inevitably only eat half of his food. He will instead bring the rest home as takeaway which he will then take straight to his room.  

  * John smells different. John has a very distinctive smell that the detective, with his hypersensitive olfactory abilities, has become accustomed to. After years in close proximity, Sherlock knows the way John smells in every possible scenario; when stressed, when angry, when excited, when he’s had a good run or had sex. He hardly needs to look at the man to know his condition, he can tell by the unique variations of his scent. But now there is a distinctly different scent overlaying John’s typical variations that Sherlock can not identify. He is fairly certain it is not a woman’s scent that clings to John. It is something muskier and decidedly not feminine in nature. It is altogether foreign to Sherlock’s nose.  




Sherlock’s curiosity is gnawing at him. Is John avoiding him? What could possibly be so appealing about his room? After all this time and all they have been through together how is it that John is still hiding anything from him?

It takes all Sherlock’s effort to resist the urge to peek into John’s room while he is out. But they made an agreement many years ago that Sherlock will stay out of the ex-soldier's room. Unless his companion is in _imminent danger of harm_ , Sherlock is never to enter his room without prior approval. For the last six years Sherlock has managed to abide by their agreement. Even after John moved out, he hadn’t gone into (what used to be) his best friend's room. It just hadn’t seemed right. 

John has made a point of reminding him of their agreement over the past couple weeks, claiming a need for _privacy_ and _personal space_. The frequent reminders make it abundantly clear that his friend is, in fact, hiding something that would be discovered if Sherlock simply went into his room. 

He has no idea what the army doctor’s most personal space looks like and is admittedly very curious about what he might be able to deduce about the still enigmatic Dr. John Watson by his arrangement of that space and the items he chooses to have in it. And to know that that room also contains the mystery of John’s changed behaviour makes this last _bastion of John_ , this forbidden locked room, nearly irresistible. The desire to enter John’s room irritates the detective like a persistent itch he is forbidden to scratch. The more he tries to ignore it the more it becomes all he can think about. 

It is three days before Christmas, when he caves to the maddening urge to know more. 

He is lying on the couch in t-shirt, pajama bottoms and house coat when John arrives home from his work at the clinic and once again retreats to his room. He’s been in there nearly an hour when Sherlock sneaks up the stairs and presses his ear to the door. He can hear the faint murmur of John’s hushed voice and an occasional chuckle.

“Oi!” John exclaims softly. 

Sherlock siezes the opportunity. He does his best impression of panic as he bursts through John’s bedroom door.

“John? Everything ok?!”

John looks up at him in shock. He is sitting on his bed with his legs crossed in front of him.

“Sherlock?” John’s hands rapidly fold around something small in his lap and he quickly shoves it behind his back.

“I heard you shout,” Sherlock states distractedly as he scans the room. “Thought there might be danger,” he trails off as he catalogs his surroundings. 

John’s room gives off the same simple openness as the man who resides in it. The room is tidy, as he would expect from the ex-soldier, but still has thoughtful touches of a sentimental nature throughout. 

A picture of Harry and John laughing as young children sits in a simple silver frame on his wardrobe. Slightly behind it is a picture of a unit of men in army uniform in a dark wooden frame. Sherlock immediately recognizes a younger John in the second row standing next to a much taller man that resembles Major Sholto. These pictures sit next to the skull which had mysteriously disappeared from the mantle of the fireplace after John caught Sherlock talking to it a few weeks after he moved back in. 

A takeaway menu from Angelo’s, at least five years old, is pinned to a cork board on the far wall along with several from local restaurants they frequent. They know these menus by heart so Sherlock concludes they are decorative. They are arranged with attention to spacing so it is visually appealing from afar. The arrangement also appeared to have a postcard advertising the ancient chinese teapot exhibit at the history museum and the flyer about the chinese circus that Sherlock had given John the night he had convinced him to take Sarah to it. 

Another larger board behind the desk consisted entirely of clipped newspaper articles concerning Sherlock Holmes and his blogger, John Watson. They too are carefully arranged in a mosaic with space for new ones at the bottom. 

On the desk a mug with _Kross Keys Inn_ on it holds pens, including a very expensive looking one from the Shad Sanderson’s bank. Close to this, a smaller Lucky Cat waves repetitively. A crystal ashtray, that Sherlock recognizes as the one he nicked from the Palace, holds cuff liks and commemorative pins.

Propped against the wall is a small acrylic painting of Sherlock smiling in the ridiculous deerstalker hat. A note attached reads: _’From your biggest fan. You’re blog is the best! -TIO’_

“Sherlock, what the hell? Out!” Sherlock drags his eyes away from the room he is busy cataloging to John who still sits on the bed, apparently struggling to keep something behind his back. Sherlock’s eyes narrow as he glares at John’s bed. Beside John on the steel blue duvet a pair of Sherlock’s pajama pants and shirt lay in a pile.

“That’s my-” Sherlock is across the room in two strides. John stands up to block him. 

“You can’t-”

“My clothes-” Sherlock and John are grappling now. Sherlock keeps reaching for his pajamas and John keeps deflecting, trying to push him back towards the door. In frustration Sherlock fakes a move to dodge under John and instead tries to surge over him and they both tumble back onto John’s bed. 

“Oh, God!” John looks panicked. Sherlock is too busy scrambling over John, grabbing for his pilfered pajamas that are now within reach. 

Just as Sherlock’s hands closes on his clothes he feels something warm, wet and slightly rough stroking against his elbow that had been exposed in the struggle. Sherlock feezes, utterly taken off guard by the new sensation. 

John has never seen that look of utter horror on Sherlock’s face. John will later find it hard to stop laughing every time he recalls this look with the understanding that the images that Sherlock must have been generating as the source of the new sensation would likely make a pretty terrifying science fiction horror film. 

Sherlock scrambles over John and away from the sensation to the head of the bed, his elbows and knees and hips jabbing John in all the wrong places in his haste to escape. John grunts, clutching himself in pain.

“What. The hell. Is that?” Sherlock points a shaky finger at the small black and white creature trying to scramble over John in pursuit of him. It’s little legs seem unable to thrust it high enough to get on to John’s chest. John cups it in a hand and pulls it up on to his chest.

“This, Sherlock, is a puppy… _your_ puppy… your Christmas present, if you hadn’t been such an impatient twat.”

“Puppy?” Sherlock is still stunned. His breathing is hard and he looks around the room. His eyes focus in on John’s face again. “Puppy?” John laughs, thinking Sherlock looks very much the way he did when he had accidentally called him ‘nurse.’

Cradling the squirming, licking puppy to his chest, John sits up and angles himself to face Sherlock.

“Yeah, really didn’t want to do it this way… wanted to give it like a proper gift…” John holds the little ball of fur out. Sherlock looks from the creature to John repeatedly.

“John?” Sherlock stares at the doctor with an unreadable expression. John suddenly feels a terrible wave of doubt.

“The internet said I should use your clothes so that she would be familiar with your scent,” John babbles pulling the puppy back to his chest and stroking her. “I’ve been bringing her leftovers. I know it is not the healthiest diet, but I didn’t want you to catch on when I brought home dog food.” John keeps his eyes on the tiny ball of energy that is trying desperately to get to Sherlock. He has grown quite fond of her now and the thought that Sherlock might not want her is making him feel a little sick. Still, he always knew that _was_ a possibility. “If you don’t want it -”

Sherlock laughs. “It's… _ugly_.” John looks up and finds Sherlock smiling, a tear tracing a high cheek bone then plunging down his face towards his neck. His voice brakes a little as he tries for his usual sarcastic tone. “Did you have to get the _ugliest one_ they had, John?” 

Sherlock reaches out and closes his hands around the puppy. “May I?”

John smiles, his heart leaping clear into his throat. He eases the puppy to Sherlock’s chest. She immediately leaps up, licking at his neck and stretching for his chin; her joy shaking her whole body. Sherlock laughs trying to contain her, but she remains unbidden. Each push away makes her try that much harder to reach his face and smother it in kisses, until Sherlock at last captures her in both of his long hands and holds her away from himself.

“She’s perfect, John,” Sherlock says in a choked voice. “It’s _perfect_.”

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first little fanfics written for a Tumblr prompt. Just discovered it and thought I'd set it free.
> 
>  
> 
> **Thank you for reading. Your comments and Kudos are always appreciated.**


End file.
